Because it Rhymes with Cannibal
by Zaydee Kaine
Summary: Is Claire like the first wife of Vlad Tempes and able to tame Hannibal's anger or is she the Desdemona to his Othello?


The sound of the ping from the elevator as it reached the second floor resonated throughout the small, empty waiting room. The elevator doors slid open automatically, revealing the low grey carpet underneath a bench to one wall, with a chair on either side. The door to the office was opened about half a foot, but it was dark inside.

Claire stepped unsurely over the threshold as Hannibal stood behind the door, waiting to catch it when it opened. She was a mousy girl with much potential, but at her young age of twenty-five, she had yet to have fully blossomed in Hannibal's eyes. And he, with his thirty-eight years and immaculate hair who had just begun his psychiatry practice was well practiced in the eloquence of social graces. So he waited as he heard her call out his name, something he had never actually heard uttered from her lips in quite a way. Her voice betrayed curiosity and a slight fear of the unknown, seeing as the office was dark.

"Hannibal?" she gently pushed the door open with the tips of her fingers. Holding his breath calmly, he let the doorknob slide gently into his palm where he held the door, unseen by Claire.

She peeked in to the room and looked around at the office that was bathed in shadow. From the right was the window with a thin sheet over it to allow in sunlight during the day but not the direct view from passersby. He had a large wall of books, mostly scholarly and dry with two comfortable chairs to lounge in when he counseled his patients. A rug took up the center of the two chairs, and to the left of that was a desk with a drawing table off to the side. A large leather chair was pushed in to the desk with a very precise manner. To Claire, this office that she had never seen was beautiful even in the dark light. And further left was a door that separated two bookshelves; light poured in to the room from that door. "Hannibal?" she called out again as her butterfly heels clicked against the polished wood. Hannibal let go of the door as she got to the one that led to his front office, and beyond that was his private study through an open archway.

"Hannibal, are you here?" she called out slightly louder than before as she pushed open the door to his private study. Again she was met with an impressive wall of hard-bound texts, with some large and plush brown lounging chairs off to the side. On the other side of the room was a table that had two cups of water, unfiled, and a pitcher that would normally hold water but was also empty. She didn't see him in this room and made her way to the archway leading to the next room where she said quietly as she poked her head in his private office, "Hannibal?"

She didn't hear him follow her out of his hiding spot, taking care to make his footsteps quiet on the wood. When he reached the door to the back room, she was just looking in to his private office and he spoke up,

"I'm here, Claire" he stated clearly as he stepped in to the private study and she turned. She couldn't ever recall him using her name before, and it made her smile.

"Hannibal," she let the word hang in the air, the distance between them being nearly 7 or 8 feet. "I got your message..." she wasn't sure how to end that sentence, or if it had just been a statement.

"Yes, I can see that," he walked over to one of the chairs where his overcoat was draped and put his hand on the top of the back of the brown leather. It was cool under his fingers. "I called you here because I do not think we have ever been in a room alone together."

Claire made it seem like she was thinking before she nodded her head and casually took a step towards him, "I don't believe we have either."

Hannibal down casted his eyes and let his sly, close-mouthed smile cross over his features, showing just the beginning of crease lines on his cheeks. "Well, here we are then," he looked up at her then, seeing she'd stepped closer.

"Mmhmm," was all she said, her eyes showing innocence he had seen many times before.

In silence, he held out his hands to her and she approached him, slipping her hands in to his and he looked down at them. They were slender and unblemished, no scars from having a childhood that was spent in a docile lap of luxury. Cuticles were cut and fingers were manicured in to short nails and painted with a clear polish. He let his thumbs stroke up her middle finger, then over to her pinky and back before he tightened his grip very gently on her hands before he looked up in to her eyes.

Claire watched his facial expressions as he looked down at her delicate hands, so unused to the touch of another who she cared this deeply for. She heard Hannibal let out a quiet laugh through his nose as he looked back down at her hands as he held them.

"Hmm? What are you laughing at?" she asked delicately, trying to use the tone of her voice to encourage him not to hold the source of his laugh secret.

He looked back up at her with a genuine smile on his face. But inside he knew it was the smile of cruel fate, of the irony and completely intentional hurt he was about to inflict upon Claire. "I think its funny that we happen to finally," he let her left hand go and moved his soft palm to her jaw line, tracing his fingers in to the hair above her ear, "be alone together."

After all that had happened, all the unspoken words, the quick glances that they had caught between one another. It was all the times they had been at a ball or the Opera, standing right next to each other and yet not saying a word while the tension built up between each other. They always acted as if the other did not exist, not letting the world around them and the society that they swam in to know how strong their feelings were for each other. A casual blush or the accidental brushing of one hand against the other. It had been happening for nearly a year, and the two of them finally speaking to each other or expressing their feelings in any fashion where they would not have to hold back for fear of being seen or found was finally upon them.

Hannibal noticed her eyelashes were more delicate when he was this close, thumb gently stroking her cheek as he felt her right hand rest on his chest over his heart. He wore three layers of clothes so he could not feel the warmth of her touch although he knew it was there. His dapper tweed coat covered a brown vest and an off-white collared shirt, not yet in the habit of wearing a kerchief in his breast pocket.

She looked back in to his eyes, and when he pulled her head closer she took a step to close the gap between them before their lips met. There was no pause before they kissed, Hannibals hand that held her own turning over so he could lace his fingers with hers; they fit like a glove. Gentle he was with her, feeling her warm breath in the depths of his soul no matter how he tried to block it out. He kissed her sweetly and with all the tenderness his cold figure could allow before he was the one who broke from the kiss. He opened his eyes to see hers lingering closed for a second longer, seeing her savor his lips on hers and his breath on her tongue.

When she opened her eyes, she smiled at Hannibal, something that he did not return as he stepped away. He broke their bond of soft fingers interlaced as he took a step back, "Unfortunately, this is the last time that this will happen" were the first words out of his mouth. He said them slowly and purposefully, doing what he did best: inflicting as much pain as he could while trying to minimize it as much as possible.

Claire paused before she started, "Wh-," she rephrased her sentenced, "Why?"

Hannibal took a step back to the leather chair and put his hand on the top of the back of it, gazing back at Claire as he felt the ice freezing over once more.

"Secrets, Claire. I have secrets," he paused, "that I am unwilling to share with you, or anyone."

Claire was befuddled; after all the time spent avoiding each other, he had been the one to call her to his office. He had made the first move, leaving her that cell phone message while she was still pondering how to make a move; how to greet him, or to talk to him without the throng of people that usually accompanied gatherings where they saw each other.

"I want to know your secrets," was all she could reply.

"No, Claire" he simply stated as he shook his head.

"Oh..." a tense pause fell between them as Hannibal had nothing else to say to her. She spoke up, "So that's it?"

Hannibal nodded, "That's it."

Claire stood there perplexed and hurting, her aching heart had just been reaching out for him until he severed the tie. She formed her lips to say the word "But," yet she thought better of that. She wanted to ask him why, why anything, but when her lips went to form the first word, she found herself at a loss for using her voice. All she could manage to say was, "oh" in a defeated tone before she finally conceded, lips falling together in their natural shape as she looked down. Hannibal wasn't looking at her, and she slowly walked from the room, towards the door that led to the waiting room and the blindingly bright elevator after such a traumatic event. The only noises she made were from the clicking of her heels on the polished wood as she exited his office, leaving him to stare down at his brown overcoat and listen to her body as she exited the building.


End file.
